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Page: of 436
JANUARY—FEBRUARY 1845
Wema and the others exchanged puzzled looks. Jepe’s words had introduced a mystery which none could explain.
“Did you see any wolesem weapons?” asked Wema, changing the subject. “Do they have any rifles?”
“I did see two rifles. There may be others inside the houses.”
“Is there any more that you wish to say to us?”
“I don’t think so. That is what I saw.”
With the announcement that he had concluded his report, Jepe’s part
in the proceedings was finished and the council members clapped and
shouted their approval in the customary manner. After he left the building, a new pipeful of pan was prepared and passed, which gave the men
time to consider what they had heard.
As they smoked, Wema considered the men he had chosen to meet
with. Some had short tempers and must be handled with care. Others had
trouble making decisions, either because they were too ready or too slow.
Some, he knew, would try to urge the group to unwise moves. He sighed,
knowing that only he would be held responsible for the consequences of
their words and actions.
Although Wema was a man of middle age, he was younger than several of the council members. No longer so active as in his earlier years, he
had gained some weight in the time since he had been chosen chief, or
huk. Tall by nisenan standards, Wema stood nearly five feet nine in his
deerhide shoes. His skin was deeply tanned, his face neatly plucked. His
chest was deep, almost barrel shaped, and his shoulders broad.
At one time, before his elevation to chief, Wema had enjoyed participating in contests with other men of the tribe. Now he could not afford
to do so, for it was not wise to provide opportunities for challenge to
those who were ambitious or opposed his views. If he had to compete, he
preferred to choose his own ground, contest and time. There were already too many occasions, such as now, when he was required to deal
with problems not of his choosing.
Wema eyed one of the younger members of the council; if anyone
were going to create a problem, this was the man. He hoped trouble
could be avoided. With a shrug of his shoulders, Wema turned to the
oldest member and said, “I’d like to hear your words, uncle.”
The old tribesman acknowledged the request with a sideways glance
and a slow nod of his head. His voice was high and thin.
“TI remember when the wolesem first came to the valley below,” he
began. “I didn’t see them with my own eyes, but I spoke to those who
had, At the time, we supposed they were some kind of devil or evil spirit,
so we called them ysim. First to arrive were the men we now know as
panjol wolesem who speak the language of espanol. The best that can be
5